BY QUENNIE P. CALAPRE
THE 16TH president of the Republic of the Philippines, Rodrigo Roa Duterte, was arrested on March 11, 2025, and is facing investigation by the International Criminal Court (ICC) for crimes against humanity related to extrajudicial killings (EJKs) committed during his brutal war on drugs. Over time, the former president became known as the “Punisher.” He firmly believed that drug addicts and criminals deserved a ruthless end, justifying his actions with policies implemented in the name of national security. But was Duterte’s arrest truly a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time?
Justice, in this case, took on different shades of meaning, shaped by perspective and circumstance. For his supporters, his arrest is a misguided attempt at accountability, overlooking his legacy as a strong and fearless leader who dedicated most of his life to serving the country —an attribute expected of a leader. As a former president, his role in shaping the nation adds complexity to the pursuit of justice, further complicated by his age and current condition. For the victims of extrajudicial killings, however, his arrest is a step toward ending impunity. It serves as a moment of reckoning—a time for Filipinos to remember the lives lost in the brutal war on drugs and to seek justice for those who can no longer speak for themselves.
Under Ferdinand Marcos Jr.’s administration, justice can be perceived in two ways: as an act of political vengeance, framing the arrest as a calculated maneuver, or as a legitimate effort to hold individuals—particularly Duterte—accountable for their actions. Filipinos witnessed the tensions that unfolded during the 2022 elections when Rodrigo Duterte showed disinterest in supporting Ferdinand Marcos Jr.’s presidential bid, despite his own daughter, Sara Duterte, being Marcos’s running mate for vice president.
Yet, millions of Filipinos still voted for them, granting them the highest positions in government and the immense responsibility of leading the nation. Now, we find ourselves caught in the deepening divide of political conflict—witnessing the very leaders we put in power at the center of ongoing conflicts.
It’s a striking reality: the chaos in our politics today is a direct consequence of the choices we, the Filipino people, made at the ballot box. Indeed, democracy gives us the power to choose—but also the burden of accountability for the leaders we elect.
Should Duterte be held accountable for the alleged killings in the very nation where countless lives were lost? Should he not stand trial in the country he once led? And if found guilty, shouldn’t he serve his sentence under the Philippine judicial system? These are not just questions but urgent concerns about sovereignty and justice. Yet, our flawed legal system offers no clear answers.
Rodrigo Duterte’s arrest is not just a matter of seeking justice—it is a stark reminder of our nation’s enduring vulnerability, both to internal divisions and external forces. It exposes the fragile state of our sovereignty and our ongoing struggle against the weight of political power, global influence, and our own history.
If we were to define our judicial system, it would be as filthy as a truck full of garbage and as murky as mud after a storm. True justice remains out of reach for ordinary Filipinos, especially when cases involve the powerful—the wealthy, the influential, and those in authority. In a nation where bribery and corruption run deep, justice is not served; it is bought.
In many ways, Duterte’s trial before the International Criminal Court (ICC) may offer a more impartial avenue for accountability, free from the influence of local politics and power struggles. However, looking at the current state of our nation, one thing is clear—nothing has truly changed. History repeats itself—we continue to be enslaved, not by our own people, but by forces beyond our control.
Though no longer bound by physical chains, we remain captive to international policies, trade agreements, and financial systems designed to benefit others at our expense. We remain inferior, like a voiceless entity unable to stand resilient in its own land.
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Quennie P. Calapre is a third-year college student of the University of Cebu-Main Campus. Aside from the editorial piece being written as part of a requirement for her course, it also reflects her concerns as a citizen.
